


Spider-Touches and Wasp Stings

by Leonawriter



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Early Game/Pre-Episode Prompto, Flash Fic, Gen, References to Magitek Troopers, fears and phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16148804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: A passing question from Noct makes Prompto remember why he hates bugs so much.In the end, it's not so much that they're bugs, as it is that they've always reminded him of something else, at a visceral level.





	Spider-Touches and Wasp Stings

“So...” Noctis trailed off, which would usually have all eyes on the Prince, but Iggy was off cooking dinner - which was already starting to smell good - and Gladio was reading. “Is there any special story about you and bugs? I think you’ve hated ‘em for as long as I’ve known you, at least.”

Prompto blinked, wondering what’d brought this on.

“Uh, yeah... always been like that, I guess? I mean, I remember being stung by a wasp that got stuck in my hand when I was,” he gestured to some vague idea of the height he’d been when that’d happened. Short, at least. Before he’d even met Tiny- er, _Pyrna._  

Noct winced in sympathy. 

“Right. Got it. Not quite as bad as spiders falling on you when you try and explore the older wings of the Citadel, though.”

Prompto _shuddered._

_“Oh gods don’t make me think about that._  I was doing just fine not thinking about that. It’s the way they move. I can’t stand the way they move.”

“If I remember correctly,” Ignis said from over by the stove, “I _did_  try to warn you against doing such a thing, Noct.”

“Yeah, but you also helped get me _out_ , too. For which I’m forever grateful.”

They move on to other topics. Lighter subjects. Gladio joins in on teasing Noct, and eventually Prompto feels the anxiety from having talked about his least favourite bugs like that start to drain slowly away.

It lasts until everything quiets down and the four of them are heading for their sleeping bags, some drifting off faster than others. 

Prompto’s still awake for a while longer than he’d like. It’s always these moments, the times when he’s alone with his thoughts, that he hates the most, even if the others are here with him.

There’s something about those memories that tugs at the edge of his subconscious, that’s whispering unhelpfully just out of earshot. His mind freezing up the moment he tries to make sense of it.

He dreams of _needles_  in his skin that dig into his body and that cause pain on its surface, and he dreams of _the light, brushing touches of fingers_  against his arms, his back, his head, his legs, and the sensations make him want to cry out because he’s not just afraid, he’s _terrified_ , even though he can’t understand what’s going on.

He wakes up before dawn with tears on his face, and his mind shies away from the things he doesn’t quite remember from his dream, and he doesn’t want to think about it, so he chooses not to, but still can’t go back to sleep without the anxiety coming back in full force. So he stays awake, putting all of his focus on getting the perfect shot of the sunrise, and then he’s helping Iggy cook breakfast, and it’s almost like things are normal, and he can pretend as though nothing is wrong at all (even though gut instinct tells him he’s still missing something, something big, that’s far worse than spiders and wasp stings).


End file.
